


Stubborn Meet Stubborner

by donutsweeper



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Fluff, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17716862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: Steve visited Bucky in Wakanda whenever he could. It wasn't often enough, but it would have to do.





	Stubborn Meet Stubborner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Canon, schmanon, in this story Bucky is living happily in Wakanda while Steve is off doing stuff and saving people. Snappening? What snappening?

Steve didn't visit on any kind of regular basis, he was far too careful for that. No matter whenever Steve happened to stop by Bucky was happy to see him of course, so it wasn't like he was going to complain about the randomness of the appearances. Sure, he kind of wished Steve wouldn’t skulk guilty about outside instead of just announcing himself if he happened to mistime things and wound up arriving in the middle of the night instead of at a reasonable hour, but that was Steve for you. Every single time he invited Steve in there was the momentary look of… relief that flittered across Steve's face. Like Steve was just _waiting_ to be rejected or turned away or something and it always cut Bucky to the quick to see it.

"Get in here, you idiot," he grumbled, grabbing Steve by the sleeve and yanking him in.

"Hey, Buck. This a bad time?"

"Well, it is two in the morning, but lucky for you I was staying up late so I could get a start on realphabetizing my sock drawer so," he drawled, before breaking off when he noticed the slight tilt to Steve's posture and quarter-second drag to his left leg. "Wait a minute, are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Steve said, automatically brushing off Bucky's concern before the first half of the comment seemed to catch up with him. "How do you alphabetize socks? And why?"

Bucky, however, was having none of it and, needing less than a split second to asses Steve, reached out and poked him just above the right hip. The hiss of pain as Steve batted his hand away should have felt victorious, that he'd been right and still knew every tic and tell Steve had, but it didn't. "You are. What happened?"

"I knew I should have waited until later to come," Steve muttered, half to himself before sighing and straightening, like he was steeling himself to report to a superior, rather than just talking to a friend, let alone to Bucky. "There was a skirmish and I'm still getting used to not having the shield. But even so, me taking the hit was strategically the best—"

"Oh, don't bullshit me with the idea that you getting hurt is ever the best option," Bucky began before reining himself in; it was an argument the two of them had been having since they were kids and it was one he was never going to win. Steve would never let someone else be injured when he had the chance to prevent it, no matter the cost to himself. "Come on, let's get you bandaged up."

"I already took care of it, Buck," Steve said, in one of those vain attempts of his to brush aside Bucky's concern. It hadn't worked in more than ninety years, but for some reason he kept trying.

"Yeah, well, I'm going check out your handiwork then." Bucky didn't even bother to push or prod Steve along, he just turned and headed for the bedroom, knowing Steve would follow him.

Once there, he raised an eyebrow at Steve, tilted his head and waited. Eventually, Steve got with the program and started carefully pulling off his shirt. Under normal circumstances Bucky would be ripping the damned thing off in his haste to get to Steve's body, but at times like this he let Steve set the pace, cataloging the visual cuts and bruises and comparing the way Steve moved now to how he usually did to try to piece together a better picture of injuries that weren't as easy to spot. The bandage was covering what was probably a bullet crease, something that would have hurt like hell but would heal pretty quickly if properly cared for. There was also a bit of yellowy green mottling across his chest, the tailend of the bruise left behind after being struck by something long and thin, and a bit of stiffness that told of recently broken or cracked ribs that were still sore.

"See? Bandaged and everything." 

Bucky stepped closer, ghosting his fingers along the tape and sighed. 

"Buck?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." 

"It wasn't serious."

"Yeah, I know. I can see that." It hadn't been; a pistol round, 9mm maybe, against the body armor Steve wore? It wouldn't have the penetrating power to do much unless it was a direct, close contact hit and Steve would never let anyone get the drop on him like that. "I don't like seeing you hurt though." What he didn't say was that maybe if he had been there, watching Steve's back, it wouldn't have happened in the first place. It was what it was; he couldn't go and Steve couldn't stay.

"Makes two of us." 

"I'm not hurt."

"Of course not." Steve brushed his hand over Bucky's hair, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him close before pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "I'm glad I'm here though. Let's go to bed."

"Steve, you're still healing, you shouldn't—"

"To sleep, Buck. Just to sleep."

Knowing them, Bucky scoffed at that.

"We'll sleep!" The tone might have been innocent, but Bucky knew Steve far too well for that and just glared at him before raising an eyebrow. "We'll sleep first?" 

"We'll sleep first," Bucky agreed, grabbing Steve's wrist and gently tugging him toward the bed before pointing to it. "Now, sit." 

Steve grumbled something under his breath about being ordered around like a dog that Bucky chose to ignore as he eased himself down. "I got your boots," he said quickly when Steve started to bend to unlace them himself.

"I'm not helpless, Buck, or even hurt all that bad. I can take my own boots off."

"Yeah," Bucky retorted as he knelt down and began undoing the knots; he could do it one-handed, but it took a little more time. "But you don't have to. Not while you got me."

Steve smiled at that and ran his fingers through Bucky's hair while he worked. "I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"Not until those ribs are healed."

"We can take it easy!"

Bucky gave Steve one of his patented _'If you believe that I've got a bridge to sell you'_ looks instead of replying.

"I can!" Steve must have realized Bucky wasn't budging on the matter because his shoulders sagged, a sure sign of his giving in. "Or we can wait until morning when I'm all healed up." 

"If you're healed up." Finally getting the boots off, Bucky tossed them against the wall before standing up. The second he was on his feet Steve wrapped his arms around him, pulling him between his legs and holding him close. 

"Buck," Steve sighed into Bucky's shirt.

"I'm here, Steve," Bucky murmured, "and I'm not going anywhere." They stayed like that for a few moments before Steve began to nuzzle Bucky's chest and stroke his ass and Bucky had to thwap Steve upside the head. "After you've healed up, remember? _After._ " It might have been a little mean, but he couldn't help but laugh at the frustrated sound Steve made at that.


End file.
